


Time's Fool

by brandyllyn



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Love, Marriage, Sickeningly Sweet, relationships, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman from Chilton's past has the power to throw his entire life into disarray - but will their unfinished business ruin him or save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Basically AU after Season 2 Hannibal.]

The string quartet in the corner was quite good, even though no one was listening to them. They capably played their way through a Mozart piece, shifting seamlessly into a waltz he didn’t recognize. The passing waiters carried a mouth-watering assortment of food and the wine and champagne gave the impression of being bottomless.

Frederick Chilton loved parties. 

Even with everything that happened over the last few years Frederick truly did love social gatherings. He reveled in the small talk, the coy glances, the delicate social waltz. There was something invigorating about the posturing and preening that went hand in hand with society.

At least, when the host wasn’t serving other guests that was. He could gladly go his whole life and not attend another one of _those_ dinner parties. He shuddered, Hannibal Lecter was safely behind bars and in his care.  He needn’t worry about re-living _that_ particular nightmare again. In fact, he smiled, his ghost-writer should be showing up any day now for the sure to be bestseller Frederick was planning on having published. _Good Enough to Eat_ he was going to call it. Or perhaps _Dining with Dante_. That had a nice literary allusion to it - maybe he could subscript it about _Inferno_ …

He hadn’t decided on the title yet. “Hannibal the Cannibal” was too stale, even if he had coined the moniker himself. Not that he ever got credit for it, mind you.

So yes, he enjoyed parties when there was little to no threat of cannibalism which was a fairly low bar in and of itself when you stopped to think about it. 

He was not, however, particularly enjoying _this_ party. Maybe it was the venue, the ceilings a little too low and the lighting a little too bright. It reminded him of a hospital - not his of course. His was stately. No, more of the parochial small town type - Cleveland maybe.

 He nodded at an acquaintance as they passed by, his eyes searching for the room for someone he might know. He was in luck, Pierre Lastrange, a visiting clinician at the hospital, was crossing the floor towards Frederick - a couple walking with him. The man was tall and blonde, a state senator Frederick recognized from his election tour. The woman at his side was dressed in a body-hugging blue sheath - her head turned back to say something to the couple they had just left. When she turned back Frederick felt his heart skip a beat before turning over in his chest.

“Dr Chilton, you’ve met Senator Dennison of course. Dr Chilton works with me at the Hospital.” Pierre introduced them.

Dennison held his hand out and Frederick took it, “A pleasure to see you as always Senator.”

The senator began to ramble on about the importance of medical support, of taking care of the less fortunate -  a practiced stump speech if Frederick had ever heard one. Apparently, he’d forgotten the ‘criminal’ part of the hospital’s name. When he paused for breath Pierre turned to the woman, “And Dr Alvarez, allow me to introduce you to my colleague Dr Chilton.”

The woman smiled at him, her eyes bright with laughter as she slowly stroked her date’s arm, “Oh, I know Dr Chilton.”

“Really?” Pierre tilted his head quizzically, “Where from?”

Her sharp gaze never left Frederick’s and he gave her a tight smile as she said, “Frederick and I used to be married.”

 

* * *

 

She might as well have set fireworks off in the room for all the effect that statement had on the surrounding people. Pierre gasped, the man on her arm stiffened and turned to her with a look of absolute befuddlement. Frederick was pretty sure a woman fainted.

And like the calm in the eye of a hurricane, Frederick regarded Vanessa across the small space. She looked good, older certainly and not the lithe girl he had married straight out of med school. Her dark hair was caught up in a low bun and she was wearing makeup - something she had never done when they had been together. Her skin was darker, lines on her face that hadn’t been there when he knew her. A woman stood before him, her eyes a little harder and shoulders a little straighter - more beautiful than he could have ever imagined her to be. His body reacted as it always had and he shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably. If he could have set his cane on fire with his mind he would have done it in a heartbeat.

“Married?” Pierre finally stuttered out into the thick silence. He glanced between the two of them. “What- How long ago?”

Frederick shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, “Fifteen years, give or take.”

“Sixteen years - seven months,” she corrected him.

His eyes narrowed on her, “Give or _take_.” Her lips twitched and he felt the corner of his own lift against his will. She’d always had that effect on him.

He hadn’t seen her in nearly that long - although he’d kept a casual eye on her career. She’d left for a tour with Doctors Without Borders not long after their relationship and imploded and since then had made a name for herself in the global health field. A few awards here and there, a few accolades. She was well-respected and well-liked by all accounts. Nothing like the prestige he had earned over the years but then again - not everyone could be as successful as he was.

His cheek twitched at the thought and he felt the scar tissue pull.

Well, success had many metrics he supposed.

“What brings you to Baltimore?” he knew the question was curter than he had intended but her response was perfectly placid.

“A position with Johns Hopkins - disaster response and epidemiology.”

“Ah, I see,” the words were nonsensical, something to fill the silence while he processed the news. They had managed to successfully avoid each other for more than a decade, whether by mutual agreement or just providential happenstance. Even as the social circles they traveled in got smaller and smaller he had never had to so much as attend the same conference as her. And now, in the same city? He sighed, if this was his bad luck for the year he’d take it and count his blessings. There were only so many times you could get gutted or shot before you started to think that _you_ might be the only consistent variable in what was becoming an increasingly long list of misfortune.

“Vanessa and I are attending an art opening this weekend,” Senator Dennison said loudly, his body turned towards Pierre but his eyes on Frederick. It was laughable, obvious - the man might as well have peed on her. Vanessa closed her eyes, but he thought he saw the faintest hint of an eye-roll.

Interesting. 

“Senator Dennison, the Sun would like to get some photos.” The voice came from a young man, clutching a mobile phone in one hand, another pressed to his ear. He looked every inch the overworked political aide. He’d probably be mayor in twenty years.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” Dennison nodded at them and Pierre and Frederick returned the gesture. The couple were swept away by the Senator’s media team, pushed and arranged as a photographer knelt in front of them. 

"My apologies," Pierre coughed loudly as they passed out of earshot.  “That was…”

“Awkward?” Frederick offered and Pierre laughed.

“Yes, that is a good word for it.”

“And yet,” Frederick turned his back on the couple, his ex-wife and the Senator looking perfectly flawless next to each other as the cameras flashed, “still somehow _not_ the worst thing to happen to me at a cocktail party.”


	2. Chapter 2

A month later, Vanessa slammed the door to her Jeep shut, adjusting the leather briefcase on her shoulder as she looked up at the imposing facade of the Hospital. A small balcony graced the front, framing large windows. She’d bet every cent she had that was _his_ office. For one, it was exactly front and center - the focus of attention - and for another, well, Frederick had always loved the light. The bright white glow had reinvigorated him. He’d have decorated their home in nothing but white and windows if she’d had let him.

She shrugged the thought off.

Climbing the short set of steps she pushed the heavy oak door open and greeted the receptionist. “Hello, yes, I have a three pm appointment with Dr Chilton?”

The receptionist checked the logbook, then called upstairs. Within a few minutes a young woman came down, “Dr Alvarez?”

Vanessa nodded and followed her down a hallway and up a staircase to the next floor. The woman’s long legs were flawless, her heels clacking rhythmically against the marble. She pursed her lips - Frederick had a thing for legs and while he wasn’t one to fish off the company pier…

She paused. Honestly, she had no idea what Frederick was like. Not anymore. Maybe he absolutely was the type to sleep with his assistant. She squared her shoulders as she took a seat in the small hallway.

“Dr Chilton will be with you soon,” the assistant said as she seated herself behind her desk, turning and typing quickly. Vanessa found herself noting that at least she wasn’t just for show - then silently cursed herself for the judgment. She didn’t know this woman - she might be the most amazing secretary to ever walk the earth. Just because she was young and attractive and working ten feet from Frederick did not give Vanessa reason to be jealous or catty - certainly not in regards to _him_.

The door opened suddenly, a tall man in a trench coat stepping through and turning back to speak over his shoulder. “Thank you again for your help Dr Chilton, this book is going to be a best-seller, I can smell it.”

Frederick’s laugh rolled over her and her hand unconsciously rose to her chest before she dropped it quickly. 

“Mrs Olivier who is my next-“ he cut himself off when he saw her waiting in his anteroom.

“Dr Chilton, thank you for taking the time,” Vanessa rose gracefully to her feet, striding past the departing man and gathering the leather briefcase - ducking around Frederick and into the office beyond. He said something to his assistant behind her but she was too caught up in examining his office to listen.

Goodness, Frederick had indeed come far since she’d last seen him. She’d followed his career - tangentially she told herself, mostly out of morbid curiosity - but hadn’t realized he had done quite so well for himself. It was tasteful verging on ostentatious - or more accurately ostentatious verging on tasteful - the leather wingback chairs and crystal decanters on an antique sideboard offset by the muted colors and high ceilings. She flashed back to an argument they’d had in their first apartment - about a white fur rug that may or may not have been fake but that she adamantly refused to have in their home.

He’d made love to her on that rug the weekend before he’d left her.

She shrugged the thought off. There was no use taking a stroll down memory lane, the sidewalks there were choked with weeds and the streetlights had long since gone out. A walk there could only end in pain.

“Why are you here?”

Turning, she noted he’d taken a seat behind his large wood desk, steepling his fingers under his chin for all the world as though she were a patient of his in for their weekly check-up. Fine, if he wanted to hide behind a mask of professionalism she was happy to oblige.

Sinking into one of the large leather chairs in front of the desk she pulled a file from the pocket of her briefcase and then crossed her legs as nonchalantly as possible. His eyes flickered to follow the movement and she suppressed a smirk. She might not be twenty-five anymore but it didn’t seem to bother him. Then again, neither was he. Tapping the folder against her knee she smiled the shark-tooth smile he had taught her. “Trust me Frederick, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. But you’ve spent more than a decade not speaking to me, I wasn’t about to lay odds that you might change your mind now.”

He grunted, leaning back in his chair and returned her smile. Oh, he had gotten _quite_ good at that menacing expression in the last decade and a half. “I’ll ask you again, why are you here?”

“I need you to sign these,” the file folder slid across the polished wood easily as she tossed it forward. “Nothing to be worried about.”

He regarded the manilla folder as though it might bite him before reaching out with one hand and moving it in front of him. Flipping it open, his eyes scanned the first few lines before his brow furrowed and he leaned forward, shuffling through the short stack of papers quickly. Finally, he looked up at her. “These are divorce papers.”

It wasn’t a question but she answered it anyway, “Yes.”

“We’re already divorced.”

“No, we’re not,” she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, pointing at the little sticky flags on the papers, “but if you’ll just sign there, and initial there, there, and well, pretty much all of the marked places we will be...”

The papers fanned out slightly as he dropped them to the desk. “I don’t understand, we’re still married?”

She sighed, she’d really hoped he wouldn’t get caught on that point. “Yes, well, that’s what happens when one person refuses to sign.”

“I signed,” he protested, his palms flat against the desk as he stared at her. “In fact, I believe I signed first.”

“Yes, uh,” she wouldn’t blush, she refused, “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.”

“But Chadsworth told me you had. We had a drink together to celebrate.”

The corner of her eye twitched at that but she decided it wasn’t worth commenting on. “He sent me the paperwork not long after… not long after you got back but I was already on my first tour. When I returned he sent them again… Eventually he stopped contacting me.”

“When was that?”

“I don’t know, two thousand and three?”

“You refused to sign our divorce paper for _three_ …” he trailed off, staring at a point over her shoulder, “Chadsworth passed in oh-four.”

“Ah, well, that explains that then.”

His eyes narrowed on her, “That doesn’t explain anything - like why you continuously refused to sign the paperwork, or why you’ve decided to come clean about it now of all times.”

“I am not ‘coming clean’ - I assumed you knew and either didn’t care or…” she paused, “I don’t know actually. It doesn’t seem to have held you back.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She ignored the sharp question. “Look, I don’t want to be married to you. You certainly don’t want to be married to me. Just sign the damn papers and I’ll have them filed before the end of the day.”

“No.”

“No?”

He stood from behind the desk, his cane clicking against the tiles as he crossed around it, “No, Vanessa. I believe you’re familiar with the word? I’m not just going to sign a stack of papers handed to me by my ex-wife, not without having my lawyer look at them first.”

She stood, toe to toe with him. Electricity snapped between them and Vanessa thought idly that it has always been like that for them. No matter what was happening their bodies had always pulled toward each other. She stepped back hastily.

“Fine.” Gathering her things she stepped around him. “Let me know when you’re finished with them.” And she left without saying goodbye - and more importantly, before she could do something she’d regret.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The tap of metal against the hard wood floor was endless, interminable, enough to drive a lesser man insane. Tap tap. Frederick felt the corner of his eye twitch. Tap tap. He’d seen what happened when genius snapped, he was not at all prepared to journey down that road himself. Tap tap. His arm jerked. Tap tap tap.

If he could stop himself he would. If Chadsworth didn’t show up in this damn conference room soon he was going to snap the cane in half. If if if…

Tap tap.

“Dr Chilton, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Thank fucking god. Frederick tapped his cane against the floor once more before leaning it against the table’s edge. The man who had just entered the room was his junior by a handful of years - but Chadsworth was as capable as his father had ever been. Which, it was turning out, was not a particularly high bar.

“I’m married.” 

“Mazel tov?” the other man slid into a chair across from him in the conference room.

Frederick’s eyes narrowed and he practically bit out the next word. “Still.”

“Oh,” Chadsworth tilted his head before the realization seemed to dawn on him. “ _Oh_. Are you quite certain?”

He needed a new lawyer. His faith in this firm and more particularly this family had obviously been misplaced. “Marriages and their commiserate endings are a matter of public record. It took me less than five minutes to confirm the information.”

“I see,” the lawyer pulled at his tie, his eyes darting from Frederick to the door.

“What I want to know is how, in fifteen years, no one else ever saw fit to tell me.” He raised one eyebrow, the fingers of his right hand drumming against the tabletop.

“Do you recall which firm handled the divorce?”

“You did,” the words slid out of him like tar, his lips curling back from them.

The lawyer’s mouth worked to form a response before he seemed to think better of it and reached out for the polycon, “Becca, can you bring me the Chilton files?” He looked up at Frederick, “And do please hurry.”

Thump thump. 

Now he was doing it with his fingers. Frustration made his nerves twitch. Frustration and a fair bit of anger. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain who he was most angry with - but _someone_ was going to regret making him feel this way.

Thump thump. 

It was like a heartbeat, in time with his own. It soothed him.

Thump thump. 

Chadsworth pulled at his collar, “May I ask - are you here to dissolve the marriage or is your partner attempting to reinstate it?”

His fingers paused. Reinstate it? Vanessa’s face flashed in his mind - smiling at him on their wedding day, laughing on their first date, her head thrown back in ecstasy on their honeymoon. He shook it off but the image was replaced quickly - sparkling in a blue evening gown, long bare legs extending out from a pair of khaki shorts in his office, the way her breath had caught when he had stepped close to her. The way his own had as well…

He shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. “Dissolve it.”

“Of course, of course.” The assistant, Becca presumably, entered the room with three large files and set them on the edge of the table. Chadsworth thanked her before pulling them closer, flipping through the first quickly before continuing to the second. After a brief pause he pulled a folder from the middle. It bulged against the tie around it, handwritten notes nearly covering the front. When he unwrapped it a veritable tidal wave of sticky notes fell out. “Goodness,” Chadsworth barked and Frederick made a mental note to request a new attorney.

Flicking through the post-its quickly Chadsworth’s eyes began to draw together. “It seems,” he coughed, raising an eyebrow at something on one - the black lettering so dark Frederick could see it through the back of the paper, “it seems my father had some… _trouble_ , with your ex-wife. She’s described here as uncooperative, recalcitrant and um…” Frederick raised a prompting eyebrow when Chadsworth trailed off. “Hostile,” he finished after a moment.

Frederick fought not to smile. “How so?”

“Well, it seems at first she ignored the paperwork. It says here she was out of the country - and you were as well. When she returned she made demands in return for her signature.”

“Money?” he found his fury bubbling to the surface again. Of all the things he had accused Vanessa of in the intervening years, greed was not one of them - obviously he should have known better.

“You.” The word was flat, Chadsworth making a great effort not to place any significance on it.

“Come again?” 

“She demanded you. A meeting, a phone call… as time went on it seems she lowered her standards. This last note,” he held it up but it was too far away for Frederick to read, “simply asks that we pass on a letter.”

“What letter?” his fingers drummed on the table again.

“It doesn’t say, and it’s not in the file.” He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening, “Oh. Oh dear.”

No man younger than fifty-five should use the phrase ‘oh dear’. “What is it?”

Chadsworth looked up, his eyes wild. “My father, he… well… it looks like they had a meeting. There’s a note here in his handwriting that he was going to do whatever it took to close this.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, there’s not really anything else in the file after that.” Chadsworth stacked the papers neatly in front of him. “It seems it will remain a mystery.”

“That is unacceptable,” Frederick leaned forward in his chair. “I was told the paperwork had been filed within the first six months - now I find out that this firm, _your father_ , lied to me not only then but has continued to lie to me through fifteen years of loyal patronage.”

Chadsworth swallowed. “Dr Chilton, I cannot explain what my father did. He was not… he was not a well man at the end of his life. All I can do is re-assure you that there was no knowledge of his transgressions at any level of this firm.” Chadsworth straightened the file against the edge of the table, “However, we will of course rectify the matter, free of charge.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I imagine that it is your wife that is seeking the divorce now?”

Frederick reached into his briefcase, pulling the slim folder Vanessa had handed him earlier that week. “Yes.”

“Good, good. I’ll look the papers over and get back to you-“

“No.” Frederick interrupted, “Look them over now. I want to know if there are any surprises.”

Chadsworth barely raised an eyebrow, setting the new paperwork to his left while he pulled the originals from his own file. He flicked through both slowly, the originals had been filed in Massachusetts, the current one Maryland. After long uncomfortable minutes that Frederick measured out in the steady thump thump of his fingers and his own heartbeat the man looked up. “Well, this should be quite simple. These papers are virtually identical to the ones my father created.”

“Virtually?”

“Under ‘Reason for Separation’ the paperwork you had drawn up originally cites adultery. Mrs Chilton - I beg your pardon, Ms Alvarez - has put the reason as ‘irreconcilable differences’.”

“Doctor,” Frederick corrected absentmindedly. 

“Doctor Alvarez, of course,” the younger man shuffled the paperwork. “According to this, you each keep everything you brought into the marriage - which at this point should be quite simple. Is there anything at all that still exists that you bought together?”

“No,” Frederick thought about it for a moment, “I don’t believe so. What about the ring?”

“Ring?”

“My grandmother’s wedding ring, I want it back.”

Chadsworth flicked through the papers again, mumbling under his breath, “There’s no mention of a ring.”

“That’s non-negotiable.” The look that crossed the lawyer’s face made Frederick finally snap. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, it’s just,” Jesus, was the man scared of him? If he missed anything about Chadsworth the Elder it was his poise, he’d been a rock of a man. “It’s just that typically the wedding rings are considered gifts to the spouse - it’s not unheard of to claim property rights but it’s not a slam-dunk. I’ll contact Ms - Dr Alvarez’ attorney and see what I can-“

“No,” Frederick rose to his feet, finally finished with this farce. “I’ll contact Vanessa myself. Assuming she didn’t sell it I can’t imagine she still wants it.”

“Of course, of course, is there anything else we can do for you today?”

“I think you’ve done quite enough.” Frederick snapped as he strode across the floor. With one hand on the handle he stopped, a thought occurring to him. He smiled, “Actually, I _do_ have a couple of edits I would like to make.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

The restaurant was bright, the ceiling at least twenty feet high and the main dining area flanked by columns. The waiters were dressed all in black, flitting between the tables like wraiths to present bottles of wine and trays of food.

A younger Vanessa would have felt wildly out of place but her present self just sighed, pulling on the edge of her jacket and straightening the rope of pearls that fell across her chest. Had Frederick done this on purpose? Picked this place to throw her out of sorts? He was destined to be disappointed if so. She had dined with Silicon Valley billionaires and Arab sheiks just in the last six months. A white glove Baltimore restaurant was the absolute least of her worries.

“Madam,” the waiter intoned, pulling a large padded chair out for her to slide into. Frederick looked up from his menu, glancing down her length for a quick moment before returning to his perusal. As she sat she saw him glance up again, his gaze resting on the entirely too high heels she was wearing, her bare calves and partly exposed knees.

That was the Frederick she knew - always the leg man.

“Will you be having wine?” he asked abruptly and she glanced at the list briefly before nodding. He ordered something in German. One of the languages she didn’t speak unfortunately. They sat in silence until the waiter reappeared with it, pouring the golden liquid for Frederick until he seemed satisfied before filling their glasses. They ordered, her fish and him a salad.

“No steak tonight?” she asked, one eyebrow drawing upwards.

“Unfortunately no, I find myself in the position of needing to limit my protein intake.”

A question sprang to her lips but his tight face made her swallow it. “I see,” she said instead.

The air between them hummed - the awkward silence seeming to pulse with a life of it’s own. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “You’ve done well for yourself. Johns Hopkins.”

She blinked, “You as well.” _All things considered_ , she didn’t add as her eyes rose to his cheek.

Silence again. She reached for her glass, noting the way Frederick’s fingers drummed against the tabletop.

“You never wanted to re-marry.” 

It was a statement, verging on an accusation, and she shrugged as she sipped her wine. The bright liquid exploded on her tongue like sunshine. It was a beautiful vintage and she made a mental note to examine the label. “Neither did you.” She wasn’t going to defend her life choices, certainly not to him. He harrumphed in reply - this was going to be a very long dinner. “You invited _me_ here tonight Frederick, if you have something you’d like to say…”

He stiffened, his hand stilling as his eyes met hers across the candlelight.“My attorney is looking over the paperwork you gave me and everything seems to be in order.”

“You could have told me that over the phone Frederick.”

“There’s just one thing-“

She sighed, “Ah, there it is. What?”

“I’d like my ring back.”

Vanessa stilled, her breath stopping before she abruptly sucked in air. “What?”

“I want my grandmother’s ring back. It has… sentimental value.”

She lifted a hand, pausing before pressing one finger to her mouth. “I don’t have it.”

His eyes narrowed, “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t have it anymore.”

“What did you do with it? Did you sell it?”

“I didn’t-“

“Maybe I can buy it back-“

“Jesus Frederick, I didn’t sell Abuela’s wedding ring. What kind of person do you think I am?”

She regretted the question immediately - the look in his eyes quite clearly told her what he thought. To his credit, he didn’t say what was going through his mind. “What happened to it?”

“I… I lost it. In Sudan.”

“How did you lose it?”

Her temper, in check until now, finally snapped at his tone. “To a man with an AK-47 on a road outside of Kadugli.”

He froze before choking out, “What?”

“We don’t all get posh offices in hundred year old hospitals _Frederick_ , some of us have to go out in the field and get our hands dirty.” It came out sharper than she has intended, her mouth curling into a sneer at the end. 

“What happened?”

Her gaze slid from his, to a painting on the far wall. Flowers maybe? Or just blobs of color. “Our guide was stupid and we trusted him more than we should have. He’d made a deal - our supplies for more cash than we were giving him. He sold us out for a couple hundred bucks.” She laughed, the sound grated on her own ears, “I had twice that back in my tent if he’d just asked.” She paused, the heat of the Sudanese sun at the same time not a reality but more than a memory. “When the mercenaries came they took everything. They took our supplies, our money, our electronics. They patted us down and left us in nothing but our underwear on the side of the road…” Suddenly she remembered where she was, who she was talking with and she shook the thought off. “So no, I didn’t _sell_ my ring and I suppose I didn’t actually _lose_ it either - not that the distinction matters.”

He sat stunned. Finally, he stuttered, “I- I didn’t know.”

“Why would you?” He opened his mouth to reply but she spoke over him, “You didn’t care about getting the ring back when you tried to divorce me fifteen years ago - why does it matter now?”

He paused, regarding his wine thoughtfully. “I thought perhaps I might give it to my next wife.”

Her eyes went wide. “You have learned absolutely nothing about women in fifteen years Frederick if you honestly think you can give your first wife’s ring to the your second.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, “Well, I wasn’t exactly going to tell her.”

“That’s horrible-“ she started, then noticed the smile he was trying to hide. “Frederick Chilton, are you _teasing_ me?” He was, he absolutely was. His shaking shoulders proved it. She felt her own relax. “I take it back, _you’re_ horrible.”

He did laugh at that, full and throaty and her heart stuttered in her chest. Oh no, she thought to herself, not now. Not again. It had taken every day of fifteen years to let him go - fifteen seconds in his company and her traitorous heart was doing backflips again. Mother _fucker_.

He was talking, saying something she didn’t quite catch. “I beg your pardon?”

One eyebrow raised he gave her a half smile, the small scar on his cheek moving with the motion. “I said, I can’t believe I’ve been lying to the IRS for the last fifteen years.”

She chuckled, sipping from her wine glass as their food arrived. “Just think, you might have been in a completely different tax bracket.”

He snorted, eyeing his salad with what looked like resignation. The fish looked perfect and she resisted offering him any. Dinner passed as smoothly as it could between two estranged lovers who had barely shared a room let alone a private dinner in over a decade. That is to say, stilted conversations about the weather and local museums peppered by the occasional still too vibrant memory. There were so many things she wanted to tell him - about that winter night that had changed everything, about the intervening years and her life and his. But he remained stiff, formal, the only cracks in his armor the occasional teasing remark with a raised eyebrow that became fewer and farther between as the night went on.

At the end, she walked slowly next to him into the warm summer air - shortening her steps to match his thumping gait. When he nodded his head at her and said goodbye his name sprang to her lips without her conscious knowledge. “Frederick-“

He turned back slowly, his eyes on hers hard. “Yes?”

The words caught in her throat and she shut her eyes. “I _am_ sorry. About-” she caught herself, hand clenching at her side. “About abuela’s ring.”

He stared at her, not saying anything until she smiled quickly and turned away. It was his voice that stopped her this time. “Nessie.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. He was the only one ever allowed to call her that - she had never been able to bear hearing it on someone else’s lips. “Yes?”

Those eyes again, hard at the edges in a way she didn’t remember. “Come by on Wednesday, the paperwork should be ready by then.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and they walked away from each other.In the parking lot, Vanessa leaned against her car, her hand rising to her chest. The long chain that held her _Medicens sans Frontieres_ identification tag was nestled between her breasts. She ran her fingers along the shape through her shirt, the hard circle next to it clinking slightly as it moved beneath her fingertips. 

She’d lied to him tonight, not for the first time. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie. She’d begged and pleaded with the mercenary - and in the end had bartered the only thing she had left to sell to get the ring back. The thought occurred now that it hadn’t been worth it.

Sighing, her chin dropped to her chest as she clutched the talisman in her fist. She wasn’t going to cry. She’d cried over him for far too long.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Frederick stood at the window overlooking the long hospital drive. The bottle of scotch hung carelessly from his fingertips as he regarded the woman crossing the gravel driveway and marble steps out front. Her black dress hugged her form, cinching in at her waist and stopping just above the knee. It was almost prudish, the sleeves reaching her elbows, the neckline at her collar - yet it somehow left everything and nothing to the imagination. It was more than a little familiar.

He poured the scotch, setting the bottle down heavily on the sideboard. Had she really worn the same dress she’d bought for their first anniversary to pick up their divorce papers? That would be poetic, if more than a little macabre. 

The scotch burned as it slid down his throat and he waited for the knock on his office door. It was after hours, the hospital lightly staffed and his assistant long gone for the day. 

The knock was short, sure - no hesitancy to it at all. He could have written a dissertation on the confidence of it. Crossing the floor, he settled into one of the rich leather chairs in front of his desk, his fingers gently drumming against the manilla folder that sat on the polished wood. 

“Enter.”

God, she looked better up close. It wasn’t the same dress, just similar enough to cause him confusion and he let out a breath - unsure of why it would have bothered him so much.

“Sit,” he gestured at the empty chair across from him, pointedly not offering her a drink. This wasn’t a social call and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

The bag she dropped next to the chair seemed heavy, hitting the wood floor with a thunk as she sat and crossed her legs. His eyes fell on her thigh almost against his will and he found himself imagining if it would still feel the same under his hand. The skin smooth and firm, becoming softer as he slid upwards.

He set the scotch down. Obviously the alcohol was clouding his judgment. Instead, he picked up the paperwork, running a thumb along the edge as he looked at her. “I took the liberty of having some edits made, I hope you don’t mind.”

She gave him a quizzical look and he passed the paperwork over to her. Sitting back in the chair she flipped through the file quickly. “I don’t see…”

“Page three.”

Pulling that one free, he watched her eyes move quickly across the text. He could have pinpointed the exact moment she arrived at the change.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” If nothing else, the look on her face made the long legal discussions with Chadsworth worth it. Her mouth was hanging open her brows drawn together as she blinked at him quickly. “Adultery Frederick? Are you _still_ harping on about that?”

“Am I still-?” he spluttered, rising from his chair. “Yes Vanessa, I _am_ upset about that - _still_.”

He could see it clear as day, the memory unfortunately uneroded by the passage of time. Taking the corner of the small house, two glasses of wine in his hands. They had fought the afternoon before the party, for once not about money but about his fellowship instead.On their way to the party they hadn’t spoken, him focused on the road and her staring sullenly out of the window. Once there, they had parted ways immediately. It had taken him a full hour to cool down and admit that maybe he was not being considerate of her and to seek her out.The wine was intended to be a peace offering but it had never found its intended goal.

As clear as day he could still hear whisper of her voice in the air, “I love you.”

The sound of the glass shattering had caused the lovers to jump from each other - Vanessa’s eyes meeting his through the open doorway.

He’d all but fallen down the stairs in his haste to leave. He’d taken the car, neither knowing nor caring how she would make her way home. It was the last time he’d seen her… no, wait, that wasn’t true. She’d sought him out the night before he left for England, apologies and excuses falling from those perfect lips. Not that it had mattered, his heart had shattered when he dropped those wine glasses.

Jesus, now wasn’t that just maudlin.

“You’re going to have a hard time proving adultery Frederick, especially considering it isn’t true.”

Her voice pulled him from the memory. She had no right to look as beautiful as she did sitting there. “Call it what you will, we both know what happened that night.”

“I don’t think _we_ do.” Her back was ramrod straight, her face tilted up to his as he stared down at her. “I won’t sign a piece of paper saying I cheated on you Frederick. I simply won’t.”

“Then it looks like we’ve reached an impasse.” He drawled the words out, knowing it would infuriate her, knowing it would cause the corners of her eyes to tighten, her knuckles to turn white, her jaw to clench. He wasn’t disappointed.

She stood, toe to toe with him. Each heave of her chest causing her breasts to move tantalizingly close to him. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed with anger - she’d looked almost exactly the same when she rode him. The thought came to him unbidden but once there it took root in his brain - her back arched over him, their fingers twined together. Those had been his favorite moments.

“You can’t leave well enough alone, just have to be _right_. Just have to get that last dig in,” her words were enough to pull his mind from its reverie, even as his body pulsed at the memory

“If you think this was motivated by pettiness-“

“Oh please, Frederick, you know it is. There is no possible way you can prove this if I wanted to take it to court. You’re only hope is that I let it slide by - that I let you _win_.”

He drew himself up straighter, not noticing the cane clattering to the floor at his side. “I believe I _won_ the day I left you.” He practically spit the words out.

“Why you callous, insensitive-“ she was shouting at him, heedless of anything but her own fury.

“You conniving-” he retorted, his fingers clutching at air.

“- _wretch_ of a human being-”

“-heartless-”

“Heartless?” she reeled away from him, “I waited for you Frederick. For _years_ I waited for you, how could you-“

His lips cut her off, pressing her back against his desk and for a moment he thought she was going to fight him. Her hands curled into his shoulder and she wrenched her face back from his. Whatever she saw in his eyes must have changed her mind because in the next moment she was jerking him towards her, her tongue licking at his mouth and he was twenty-four again, ducking into the abandoned library stacks desperate to touch her. His hands pushed up her thighs, pressing the material of her skirt to her waist so he could step between her spread legs.

They moaned together as their bodies collided, fingers working frantically in concert - unbuttoning here, pushing aside fabric there, lifting hips to lower her underwear to the floor and then he was inside her and she was moaning into his mouth and everything was beautiful and perfect and how it was always meant to be.

He leaned her back, covering her body with his. She flinched from something underneath her and he swept his arm across the top of the desk. The clatter of objects on the floor barely registered as he pressed her down and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Clutching her to him, her weight resting across his forearms, he pumped inside of her tight warmth. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he sucked on her lower lip.

“Oh god, Frederick,” she gasped against him and he pushed harder - angling his hips the way he remembered and she screamed. He covered her mouth quickly, swallowing the noise and groaning as he came inside her.

His first thought when his brain started working again was _yes_. Followed soon after by _shit_. They were still kissing, soft gentle nibbles and licking caresses. His mouth moved on hers without him needing to be aware of it - as though it was meant to do so. He pulled back, his breath puffed across her lips and her eyes fluttered open. They stared into each others eyes for a long moment before she broke the silence.

“ _Shit_.”

He chuckled softly, there was nothing else for it. The wood of the desk felt slick beneath his sweaty palms as he pushed himself up, stepping away from her as she sat up and adjusted her clothes. He did the same, retrieving his cane and watching her from the corner of his eye. 

“That was…” she started and he waited, holding a breath. A mistake? Stupid? Absolutely amazing do you want to do it again? What continuation of that sentence would hurt the least?

Her eyes slid away from him and she rose to her feet, one hand smoothing against her hair but she didn’t say anything. The walls that she had had up for their previous meetings were gone and she seemed younger - more like the girl he had known. Grabbing her bag from the floor she pushed past him to the door.

“Nessie,” he started and she pulled herself up short.

“Please don’t,” she whispered and he felt his heart constrict in his chest. “Don’t call me that, not right now. I don’t think I can…”

“Don’t go,” he took a halting step towards her, “stay here and talk to me.”

She whirled on him. “ _Now_ you want to talk?”

He opened his mouth to reply, the condescension and arrogance he had wrapped himself in for the last decade springing to his lips, but her face brought him up short. Tears hung from the edge of her lashes and she blinked at him quickly before turning around again. But she didn’t go. He sighed, clenching his fist atop the cane at his side. “What happened to us?”

Her laughter sounded choked as it floated back to him, “You left me.”

“You betrayed me.”

“Maybe I did, but I would never have abandoned you. But you were more than willing to destroy our marriage as soon as things got too hard.”

“ _We_ destroyed our marriage-“ he corrected but she interrupted him.

“No Frederick, don’t. Don’t you _dare_. I fought for us. I fought every day for three years. I called you a hundred times, I wrote you letters, I refused to sign the divorce papers - I made a mistake but I _fought_ for us.” She was crying now, running a hand across her cheek. She stood up straighter and looked him dead in the eye, “ _You_ walked away, you did that. Not me.”

History doesn’t always repeat itself. This time, when the cards hit the table and everything was on the line - she walked away from him. And he let her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_I can be there in thirty_.

The text glowed inside the grey box. Frederick hadn’t been able to convince himself to call her - taking solace in the brevity and distance that a text afforded instead. Her response had been nearly instantaneous. On the foyer table, the file sat still and quiet - with no indication of the turmoil it caused in him.

The palms of his hands itched and he rubbed them against his thighs brusquely. They’d been doing that, ever since he’d put his hands on her at his office, touched her, felt the softness of her beneath his fingers. Nerve-endings he’d nearly forgotten he’d had re-awakening against her. It was awful, fifteen years and she was still the only person who could get under his skin like that. If there was such as thing as one perfect companion in the world… he shook the thought off. He didn’t believe in fairytales, hadn’t for years.

The crunch of tires on gravel pulled him from his thoughts and he slowly stood from the low leather couch. He felt tired today, more so than he had in years, and his arm ached as he placed his weight on his cane. The doorbell rang before he had crossed half the space but he didn’t quicken his pace, slowly thumping to the door.

“You have a beautiful home Frederick.”

He snorted, stepping back so she could enter, shutting the door behind her loudly. “It is what it is.”

Vanessa stared upwards, at the vaulted ceiling of the entryway, then at the parlor with its piano he rarely found time to play. He saw the house through her eyes - everything exactly as he had always wanted it. What he hadn’t wanted was the lingering smell of iron that still haunted him. 

“I trust you found the place alright?” Inane babble, something to fill the silence until he could complete their business without being unpardonably rude.

“It was fine.”

He nodded and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He pretended not to notice. “I trust things will not be…” he trailed off, searching for the words he wanted to say. What felt like decades of unspoken questions. _Why did you do it_? He wasn’t sure if he meant then or now.

“Awkward?” she asked with a half smile and he found himself unable to return it. The silence stretched and the expression faded from her lips. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t pretend. He stepped to the table, picking up the paperwork laying there.

“Here,” he thrust the file into her hand and she took it reflexively.

“What’s this?”

“Your divorce papers, we’re officially no longer man and wife.”

“Frederick-“

He cut her off, “You got what you wanted, please show yourself out.”

She froze, staring into his face. He refused to meet her eyes, turning away and limping back down the hallway. Behind him, he heard a soft thump, a jangle of metal, then a whistle of something past his ear. It hit the wall beyond him, clattering to the floor and spinning for a moment before settling. He stared at it, his mind not processing the image before he slowly crouched down and picked up the metal band.

Grandmama’s wedding ring. _Vanessa’s_ wedding ring.

Closing his eyes, he turned back - willing her to not be there when he opened them. But of course he wasn’t that lucky. The divorce papers littered the floor at her feet. In her hand, she clutched the broken remnants of the silver chain she always wore, the red Doctors Without Borders logo catching the sunlight. The ring in his hand was still warm from where it had rested against her skin.

“I thought you’d lost this?” the question hung in the air, a gauntlet.

“I did.”

“How did you-?”

“I bought it back.”

“ _How_?” he didn’t want to ask the question - there was no answer she was going to give him that would assuage his conscience.

Her hard swallow put truth to his thoughts. “There’s always one more thing you can sell.”

When he’d pictured her with another man - on the lonely nights when the whiskey held him and he felt like torturing himself - he’d always imagined her with someone who loved her. Someone tall and strong and successful. Someone who cherished her the same way he’d had. He had always thought that _that_ had been the nightmare - that she had found her soulmate… and that it wasn’t him.

Fuck, even his nightmares were inadequate.

“Why?“ he stepped to her and saw her fist go white where she clutched the chain. “Why would you do… why still wear it, after all these years?”

“Because I love you.” His heart stopped but she continued without seeming to notice. “Because it was all you left me of you. A reminder that once you loved me enough to give me your name - that you loved me at all. You promised to be with me forever and even without you, I had it and I could still pretend…” the words halted before she continued in a quiet, choked sob. “I’ve loved you every minute of every hour since the day I met you. And I will love you until the day I die. Sometimes I think I was born loving you.”

“Me too.”

The soft statement caught her off guard and her hands dropped to her sides, the chain and tag clattering to the floor. “What?”

“Almost as much as I hate you.” She looked like he had struck her and he let his breath out through his nose. “It’s strange, I love you and I hate you and I’ve done both for so long I can’t tell the difference anymore. I wake up in the morning and I reach for the phone to call you, to beg you- I have to fight with myself not to-“ he cut himself off. Fuck, how much more pathetic could he sound?

“Frederick…” 

“You hurt me.” She blinked at the bald truth of it. It really was that simple. She had hurt him and he had walked away from her rather than let her do it again. Once was more the enough - once was enough to know that he wouldn’t survive twice.

“Oh Frederick, “ she stepped to him, leaving dirty footprints on the divorce papers at her feet. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands. “I can’t take back the pain, I wish I could, all I can tell you is that it has always been you. Always.”

“You said you loved him.”

“Who?”

“Jacob.”

“You were so -“ she stopped herself. “No, I won’t - I was young and stupid and I was so _mad_ at you. And Jacob was there and he was drunk and he needed someone to be there for him and I-“ she paused, dropping her hands to her sides, “I did something incredibly stupid and I regretted it the moment it happened.”

“You said you loved him.” They were the only words he could find, they’d become his mantra over the years.

“And I did. But as a _friend_ , Frederick, nothing more.” Her breath feathered across her lips, she was close enough he could feel it against his neck. “It’s only ever been you.”

He wanted it to be true, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. His mouth sought hers, lips catching on the soft texture of her skin. “Say it again,” he said after a long drugging moment and her eyes fluttered open, her brown gaze staring straight into his soul.

“I love you.”

He kissed her again, tossing his cane to the side and tangling his hands into her hair. Her wedding ring slipped through his grasp, sliding onto the end of his smallest finger and he felt the pressure of it even as he licked against her lips. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her hands clutching at his shirtfront. He tasted salt and opened his eyes. Tears glistened on her lashes and left trails down her cheeks. He pulled his lips from hers, pressing kisses to her skin. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, her shoulders heaving against him.

“I waited for you for so long Frederick. How could you leave me?”

“I don’t know,” he cupped the back of her head in his palms, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I don’t know, I’m an idiot.”

She laughed, the choked sound rocking her body, “Yes.” But then she was crying again, burying her face into his neck and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and pressing kisses into her hair. He held her until her sobs subsided, whispering everything that came into his head as he stroked against her back. Slowly, he led her to the couch, sitting them down and wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

They sat in silence, her head resting against his shoulder while he smoothed his hands against her back. Finally, she pulled back, looking into his eyes and cupping his neck in her palms. Tracing one hand higher, she ran her fingers along his cheek, skimming the puckered scar and he shut his eyes. Where had she been two years ago? Or better yet five? When he was still whole and perfect?

“I came you know.”

He blinked, trying to catch her eye but hers were on his scar. “What?”

“I was on duty the first time, I didn’t find out until… but the second - when you got… when this happened, I came to the hospital.” She met his eyes then and he confusion must have been writ across his face because she gave him a half smile, “They wouldn’t let me see you. The F.B.I? They weren’t letting anyone in to see you - nevertheless an ex-wife they’d never heard of.”

Something primal unfurled in him at the mention of being his ‘ex’-wife but he tamped it down, that was a conversation for another day. Instead he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “No one told me.”

“It didn’t seem important I guess.”

“It’s important to me.” And it was. He’d had his fair share of flowers in the hospital; carefully written cards from the B.S.H.C.I. staff, the concierge at his country club, a few others - but not a single person outside of the F.B.I. had visited him to his recollection. He’d told himself it didn’t matter, but the slight had stung all the same. 

Their breaths mingled between them and he took a deep inhale before asking, “Stay with me?”

She stilled under his touch. “Tonight?”

_Forever_ , his heart corrected but he couldn’t make himself say it. It was all still too new, too raw. “For as long as you’d like.”

Her head lifted slightly, her nose nuzzling against his for a moment before her lips brushed his. “Okay.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

The wine rolled across his tongue like velvet and Frederick once again thanked the F.B.I. for not confiscating his entire collection. Next to him, Vanessa stared out the large bay windows of his bedroom and into the inky blackness of the night beyond. The sky was clear, the low light from the single lamp by his bed a pale comparison to the bright summer moonlight. They’d spoken barely a dozen words since he’d asked her to stay, moving into his bedroom by unspoken agreement. But once there, a miasma of awkwardness had descended over the space. The wine helped, but he supposed it would take more than the single bottle to make the situation seem normal.

“How long-“

“Would you like-“

They both stopped, turning and giving each other small half smiles. He gestured with his glass, “You first, by all means.”

She bit her lip, “I was just going to… how long have you lived here?”

Sipping his wine, he thought about the question for a moment before replying. “Six years?”

“Oh.” The silence descended on the room again and she turned back to the window.

It shouldn’t be this hard, he thought to himself as he watched her. The encounter in his office should have made the evening feel easier, without the added gracelessness of having gone so long without touching each other. Instead, it only highlighted their complete unfamiliarity with each other. He opened his mouth to say something - what, he wasn’t sure, but she turned to him first, glass of wine falling to her side in one hand while the other lifted to his shirt. Her fingers slipped between the gaps between the buttons and he felt her skin brush his at the same time she pulled him closer and kissed him.

For a startled moment he froze, his brain spinning too fast to enjoy it. It wasn’t until she began to pull away from him that he remembered how to move and he followed her with his lips - deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like wine and velvet and that unique flavor that had always been hers - that his mouth watered for sometimes. Her tongue slid gently against his before she closed her lips around him and sucked. The sensation shivered through his body and he groaned when she did it again. Her hand lifted, the base of the wine glass hitting his shoulder for a moment before she pulled away and gave it a perturbed look.

“I’ll take these,” she said with finality, tugging his glass from his hand and turning to the small table behind her. Now that he had her again he couldn’t bear to have her out of his arms and before she could even touch glass to the table he stepped closer, pressing his body to her back and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She leaned back against him, setting the glasses down with a clatter. His fingers worked against the buttons on the front of her shirt, pulling the material from her pants. He brushed her hair from the base of her neck, leaning forward to press his lips to the spot and felt her shiver. Fifteen years began to melt away - his body remembering hers as though the time had never happened. The shirt slipped from her shoulder easily and he bent to press a kiss to her skin, his gaze falling to her breasts and-

His sharp intake of breath froze her and when his fingers drifted across her ribs she flinched under his touch. “How did this happen?”

“A kid, he didn’t realize who I was - that I was there to help. Got me with a piece of broken glass.” She covered his hand with hers as he traced the jagged scar.

“And this one?” his other hand brushed her arm.

“Bullet, a stray, not meant for me.” She held her left hand up, bending her fingers down into a fist except for the middle two which stopped partway. “Those were broken in Venezuela. That was done on purpose.”

He grunted, his hand pulling hers towards him and he hugged her tightly from behind. “Why do you keep going back?”

“Because people need me,” she whispered softly, leaning back into his shoulder and turning her head to place a soft kiss on his jaw.

He angled his head, capturing her lips with his own, the gentle touch chaste before he slowly pulled back. “I need you.”

Her soft exhale of air was all the response he got, but it was all he needed. His hands pushed her shirt from her, moving slightly so it could fall to the floor between them. Her skin felt soft beneath his fingertips, one of her hand catching his wrist and guiding it upwards. Up and beneath the cup of her black bra until he was cupping her breast and he muffled his groan in her hair when he realized how perfect she fit to him - exactly as he remembered. The fingers of his other hand swiftly undid the buttons of her pants, helping her push them off her hips until they too pooled at the floor.

She turned in his arms, pushing him back towards the bed, sitting him on it and standing between his legs as she undid the buttons down his shirt. Abruptly, he had the thought that he should stop her, his hands rising to grip her wrists. He wasn’t the same man he was when they were together before, the marks that had been left on his body he wasn’t sure he wanted to share. But while his hands stopped her his eyes were on her skin. The jagged slash across her abdomen, the rough edges of the puckered skin on her arm proof of the poor surgery that had gone into repairing it. Who was he to hide his clean, neat scars from her?

He released her hands and she returned to her task more slowly, her eyes on his face now as she slowly pushed the soft cotton from his shoulders. Without hesitation, she lifted his white undershirt over his head, ruffling his hair and blocking his vision for a moment before she tossed it aside. He waited, holding his breath as her fingers lightly traced across his chest, drifting down slightly before returning up and tangling into his hair. Tilting his face upwards she kissed him, nibbling and sucking on his bottom lip until he wrapped his arms around her and toppled her into the bed with him.

Their touches were hesitant at first, light caresses and darting tongues until it became apparent that fifteen years was indeed not that long of a time. Finding that the things he could do to make her moan and arch her back when she was twenty-six were really not so different than the things that made her do the same at forty-two. And discovering the new ways they fit together, all of the wrinkles and stretch marks and scars that marked the passage of time.

When he finally moved over her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down tight. Bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle as he slid inside of her. It was the same as he remembered. Yet at the same time it was new and terrifying. It was passion and love and wedding vows and laughing in the snow and their honeymoon to Maine and the winter they couldn’t afford to pay the heating bill. It was their first fight, their first kiss, their first meeting and their first night together - and it was every day they had spent apart, every anniversary they had never shared, every memory they had never made.

It was, in the end, like coming home.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Vanessa awoke by herself.

It wasn’t unusual, in the months since she and Frederick had cautiously begun spending time together again she often found herself alone in his bed bed. He was a restless sleeper, getting up several times a night to pace in his study, work on patient files - or in the worst of cases, to drink whiskey and stare into the empty blackness behind his house. She left him alone during the former - but she couldn’t help but follow when the dark moods took him, curling her body around his and sitting quietly together. He’d resisted at first, urging her back to bed, coming with her but laying stiff as a board by her side. But after a few nights he’d acquiesced, leaning slightly into her warmth, whiskey forgotten in his hand. 

And so no, it wasn’t unusual to wake up alone. It was a little unusual that she couldn’t hear him, however. Frederick was many things but quiet was not one of them. She swung her legs out of the bed and stretched before searching for something to stave off the chill autumn air. 

The terrycloth robe dragged the ground behind her as she made her way down the back staircase. The kitchen was empty and she opened her mouth to call his name when the raised voices from the foyer stopped her.

“I’m not sure why you’re still standing here, you’re two hours late - I’m certainly not tipping you.”

A rumble of another voice, then Frederick again, “See that you do.”

She rounded the corner of the kitchen and stopped. Roses in every possible shade of red littered the entryway. Dozens and dozens, probably a few thousand dollars worth easily. They covered every available table and most of the floor. Raising one eyebrow she lifted the hem of the robe and slowly picked her way around the glass vases. 

“Frederick?”

The door slammed, Frederick turning on one heel so quickly he had to put a hand out to catch himself. “You’re awake early.”

She wasn’t, but it didn’t seem like a sentiment that bore correcting. Instead, she made her way closer to him, stepping over a large arrangement of scarlet flowers to stand in front of him. “What is going on?”

He swallowed, his eyes darting around the foyer. “Our anniversary… I thought…”

She titled her head, eyebrows drawing together quizzically. “Our anniversary was last month.”

In fact, the date had come and gone without comment - almost as though by some agreement between the two of them. They had spent the day at their respective offices, a brief phone conversation in the evening to make weekend plans - but with absolutely no ceremony. How do you celebrate a wedding anniversary with someone you’ve been separated from for fifteen years? Awkwardly - and if at all possible by willfully ignoring it it seemed.

Frederick shoved his hands in the pocket of his pajamas pants. He’d missed a button on the shirt, the entire front hanging askew and she found the sight more endearing than it probably was. “Not that anniversary.” When she just blinked at him he let out a long breath. “This was supposed to be a surprise, there were going to be roses in the bedroom when you woke up - it was going to be romantic.”

Her lips twitched and she stepped closer to him, slowly unbuttoning the front of his shirt. He watched her, lips parted and a look of befuddlement on his face until she finished and straightened the two sides, swiftly buttoning it back. Laying her hands against his chest she looked up at him. “What, exactly, are we celebrating?”

His hand caught at the tie of her robe, pulling her closer until her thighs pressed against his. “October 15, 1996. You were crossing the Quad and fell down, hit your knee. I watched it happen, but by the time I got to you you were showing everyone who passed by the edges of the scrape and how you could see the different layers of skin.”

Laughing, she leaned into his body, “Okay, that does sound like me but I don’t remember it at all.”

“I don’t expect you would,” he smiled at her, “but for me that was it.” When she tilted her head in confusion he clarified, “That was the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

She blinked, her mouth falling open, “Oh Frederick…”

Bending his head, he captured her lips with his, kissing her until her knees buckled and only his arm around her held her up. He was breathless when he pulled back, “Whatever else may have happened, I’ve loved you for twenty years and I wanted to celebrate that.”

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly how much she loved him but he cut her off, slowly kneeling on the floor - surrounded by a veritable farm’s worth of fresh roses. In his hand he held her wedding ring - she hadn’t seen it in months, not since that night she had thrown it had his head in a last ditch effort to make him see her. Her heart beat faster, and she blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes.

“I know we’re still technically married, but I want you to be mine again in truth, not just on paper. I asked you before, but… stay with me Vanessa?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, pulling at his shoulders as he unsteadily tried to rise to his feet. He caught her left hand in both of his, sliding the cool metal band onto her finger. Even though she hadn’t actually worn it in more than a decade it felt right there, like a piece of her coming back at last. Their kiss was deep, longing and contentment wrapped up together in a drugging bundle that left her breathless and him panting.

“Although, I’m not sure the world can fully handle two Doctor Chiltons.”

She laughed, pushing at his shoulders and then letting out a sharp squeal when he tried to pick her up, spinning her in a small half turn before abruptly setting her down when, presumably, his forty-three year old body told him what a terribly impulsive idea that was. She smiled, running her fingers through his hair as she got her feet back under her. On the ground, a vase of deep pink roses wobbled and she steadied it with her toes. Looking around she asked with no small measure of concern, “Did you have a step two to this plan? What are we going to _do_ with this many flowers?”

His eyebrows drew together before his eyes lit up, “We could strew them on the bed. I like they idea of you lying among the roses.” His voice dropped an octave, a husky lilt to it as he continued, “Your naked body on the silky petals…”

She smiled, eyeing the arrangement closest to her, “Did you get the thornless kind?” Silence, then a quiet curse and her smile deepened, “It’s okay, I’m sure we can find something to do with just my naked body.”

Laughing, he carefully followed her out of the foyer. When she quickened her pace at the stairs he was right behind her and they fell into the soft cotton sheets of his bed in each others arms. 

Together, as they were always meant to be. 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
> Admit impediments. Love is not love  
> Which alters when it alteration finds,  
> Or bends with the remover to remove:  
> O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,   
> That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;  
> It is the star to every wandering bark,  
> Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
> Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks   
> Within his bending sickle's compass come;   
> Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,   
> But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
>    If this be error and upon me proved,  
>    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.   
>   
> -William Shakespeare Sonnet 116

**Author's Note:**

> More stories by brandyllyn:  
> 'Debt Makes Promises' - Owing a favor to a known drug kingpin was hard enough, but when that person is Nevada Ramirez all bets are off. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Further on the Edge' - Nevada meets a woman who gives him a run for his money. But she's not quite what she presents herself to him... (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Let Live' - If he was being honest with himself, this woman scared the shit out of him (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Half Empty' - Sometimes your body is the only thing you have left to negotiate with. (Trouble in the Heights)  
> 'Bought and Paid For...' - To avoid going to a gala alone, Frederick Chilton procures the services of an escort. (Hannibal)  
> 'Good Man Feelin' Bad' - Rafael Barba meets an interesting woman at a gala. (Law & Order: SVU)  
> 


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